


Rise up

by MiriRainbowitz



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriRainbowitz/pseuds/MiriRainbowitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton - bastard, orphan, immigrant, commonly known as Captain America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Less of us

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [talk less (or your publicist will strangle you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716030) by [BeggarWhoRides](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeggarWhoRides/pseuds/BeggarWhoRides). 



_Raise a glass to the four of us. Tomorrow there’ll be more of us._

“Lies,” Alexander muttered. “You’re such a _liar_ , John. There’s – less of us now.”

Well, no, it was just him now. Lafayette had gone back to France, to support his country against the Nazis, and Hercules was spying, and John –

John’s laughter echoed in his mind. John’s face, absolutely covered in freckles – Alexander had tried to count them, but there were too many. The warmth of John’s body as they huddled together for warmth, and Alexander had had to make sure that his body’s reaction was hidden.

John’s scream as he fell. John’s face, twisted in terror, growing smaller by the second. Alexander feeling a wave of cold wash over him as John disappeared from sight. 

It had been days since the train. Nothing had been able to warm him up – not fire, not another person’s body heat, not any kind of alcohol, not even the thought of Eliza.

Well, John had always seemed to be sunshine in human form. It only made sense that Alexander was cold now.

 

A few days later, when he aims the plane towards the water, he barely even registers his conversation with Eliza. His main thought is that the ice he’s heading toward can’t be colder than a life without John.


	2. Look at my son

Philip sometimes reminds Alexander of John so much it hurts.

It’s not just the looks, even though he has the same curly hair and freckled skin and the same eyes. It’s the way he always, _always_ , speaks his heart. It’s his fervent belief in racial equality. It’s the passion in his voice when he starts talking about something he’s interested in.

It’s the way he challenges the Speaker of the House to a duel. John – well, Alexander distinctly remembers being his second when John had dueled Charles Lee. Holly had groaned that challenging people to duels was _such_ a Hamilton thing to do, and, well, she wasn’t entirely wrong, but it was also a very _John Laurens_ thing to do.

The first few weeks, he has to concentrate very hard on not saying the wrong name. Philip is his son, but he doesn’t even want to say John’s name around him. John is – John was someone he had loved and lost (because of _him_ , a voice in his mind whispers), John was _his_. His to mourn and miss and treasure the memories of him.

It does get easier. As similar as he is, he’s also different. John was never a poet, but Philip is. He’s as smart as Alexander was at his age, and Alexander thinks of the lullaby he’d heard Aaron Burr sing to his infant daughter Theodosia – specifically, the line “someday you’ll blow us all away”. Philip certainly does seem destined to do just that – he’d only turned 16 in January, but he was already a senior and doing extremely well in all his classes. He has something of Eliza’s sweetness and musical talent too – he plays piano, and sometimes comes up with his own little melodies.

Regardless, the pain never quite manages to go away.


	3. Come back to sleep

A creak on the bedroom floor jolts Alexander wide awake, surging up in bed and automatically scanning the room for threats. His eyes catch on John, frozen halfway across the room, and he can feel himself calming down. He doesn’t always catch John’s nightmares – which used to involve him crying out, but are now reduced to quiet whimpers, and Alexander _really_ doesn’t like to think about why that is – but after one, he’ll always try to sneak away. Most of the time, he’s not successful.

Beside him, Eliza grumbles and stirs, and Alexander feels a surge of guilt. This is the first time Eliza’s ever been pregnant, and thus far, she’s been having a hell of a time sleeping comfortably. “What’s going – oh. John, come back to sleep,” Eliza says as she sits up.

John shakes his head. He still doesn’t like talking a lot, and again, Alexander refuses to think about why that is. Doing so will only make him angry, and with the amount of scared and traumatized people currently residing in the house, anger has no place here. 

Eliza sighs and gets out of the bed and walks over to John. There’s a flash of terror on John’s face – Eliza may be a supersoldier, but she’s pregnant and John could easily overpower her with his training and metal arm – but he relaxes when Eliza’s hands settle on his arm and face. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

This is why Alexander loves Eliza. Not only had she accepted Alexander’s feelings for John, she’d taken him into her heart as well, and cared for him and comforted him just as she’d done with Alexander. _Best of wives and best of women_ , Alexander thinks.

John shakes his head. “Hot chocolate?”, he asks.

Both Alexander and Eliza nod at the same time. John had loved always loved hot chocolate – when he and Alexander could afford it, that is – and now, it seems to be the best way to calm him down after a nightmare. (Alexander doesn’t like to think about how frequent John’s nightmares are now, compared to before.)

When they go downstairs, Alexander turns the light at the foot of the stairs on. If any of the kids wake up, they’ll see the light and know the adults are downstairs. 

In the kitchen, Alexander gets pulled into a clinging embrace by John, while Eliza busies herself making three mugs of hot chocolate. When she's done, they go into the living room and sit on the couch, John nestled between Eliza and Alexander.

It was a while before John speaks. “Suburban town – quiet little place, I don’t know where – there’s a dog in the house. It starts barking when I go inside, and the man and woman come down the stairs. They’re young – she’s a few months pregnant.”

John shudders. “I kill him – he’s my target, but… they said there shouldn’t be any witnesses. So – so I shoot her, and the dog, because the barking might draw the neighbors.”

“Then – I look back, at the people, and – and they’re _you_. I killed both of _you_.” His voice, which had been getting shakier, breaks down on the last word, and he starts crying.

Eliza and Alexander both hug him. Alexander runs his fingers through John’s growing hair while Eliza strokes his back, murmuring a constant stream of endearments and assurances until John has stopped crying. 

Alexander takes the anger he feels on John’s behalf and stores it away for later. He can use it when they’re out, burning HYDRA to the ground and salting the earth, but John needs him to be calm and comforting now. He picks up John’s mug and hands it to him, and even though it’s probably long cold by now, John still drinks it up.

A look at the clock shows Alexander that it’s almost 4 am. They could all go back to sleep and wake up in about two hours, none the worse for wear, but Alexander doesn’t want to. He’s content to sit here with John and Eliza, and itching for a fight. He should definitely try to call Sam and see if there’s anywhere John can go that would help him with his nightmares.

“I’ll go make some more hot chocolate,” Alexander says. “Unless either of you want coffee?”

John and Eliza shake their heads. “Add marshmallows,” John pipes up.

Alexander smiles as he gets up. “Can do,” he replies, then heads to the kitchen.

They’ll get through this. They’ve all been through a lot of pain and suffering and trauma, but they’re strong. They can survive this, and after that’s done, things will get better. Alexander _knows_ this.

**Author's Note:**

> My parents are dicks, but unfortunately, they're dicks I'm completely financially dependent on. Recently, they said that they wouldn't refund me for "non-essential" expenses, like using Uber. In light of that, I've set up a gofundme campaign (the link to which can be found [here](http://dammmithardison.tumblr.com/post/138682719520/click-here-to-support-living-expenses-by-miri)). If you can donate, please do so. If you can't donate and have a tumblr, please help by reblogging.


End file.
